Salt
by BatteryDiamond
Summary: Gerard isn't sure of the path his life takes. Maybe, if Frank is beside him, he at least has a compass to guide him.
1. Chapter 1

He's sprawled out on the hotel bed, wrists hanging off the edge. Bottle of whiskey lying next to him, almost empty. He's just kind of laying there, helpless. Tired. Useless. The door opens a little bit, but only a crack. Frankie pokes his head in.

"Gee? Are you okay?" He asks gingerly. Gerard just looks up at him and shakes his head, eyes clouding over with tears. Frankie walks over and sits on the bed, tries to hide his concern, and fails miserably.

"I can't... I don't know why I'm still alive. Frankie, what's wrong with me? Why am I like this?" his bottom lip trembles a smidge.

"Like what? Gee, stop. Don't cry. I'm here. It's gonna get better. You'll get better, dude. Promise." Frankie curls up next to Gerard, cradling his hands in his own. Gerard just closes his eyes and breathes Frank in- trying to convince himself that he's still alive, here in Frankie's arms. The older boy sighs softly.

"it's gonna be okay, Gee. Shhhh. Go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up." And so he does. Frankie can't sleep. He's kind of busy watching the singer rest- The soft breath that he emits each time he exhales, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he dreams. When Gerard wakes up, he feels better. He takes three Motrin (administered by Frank, of course) and snuggles a while longer. He loves it. He loves being this close to Frank. They get close on stage; they kiss and grope and touch. But it isn't the same. It isn't as intimate. It's like a secret. One of those awesome secrets that you're totally okay with telling someone, but you don't. Because it's special and just for you. But then they have to go to soundcheck. Both boys drift through the few hours, then go back to the hotel. It's really just cuddling, but then Gerard looks at Frankie in this totally weird and new and awesome way. Frank is fucking hot. Gerard has always acknowledged this, but it has never been so prominent, so fierce. And so Gerard doest the thing he believes he ought to do- he kisses Frank. Only for a fraction of a second is the younger boy confused. But then he's definitely kissing back. There's something about the way their bodies are pressed together, like legos. They seem to fit together in a perfectly imperfect harmony. He's only seen that shit in sappy movies, and porn that tries (and fails) to have an actual plot line. Maybe in his dreams, too, he thinks.

"G-gee. Holy _fuck_." Frank whimpers, his face pressed into Gerard's neck. The older boy simply kisses Frank's cheek and goes about sprinkling tiny pecks across his jaw, his collar bone, his shoulder.

"i... Frank. Frank. Look at me." And Frank does, with this lusty look that practically pins Gerard to the headboard.

"Yes?" He raises one eyebrow.

"I so wanna blow you right now, jesus christ."

"oh?" Frank asks, surprised. To answer this question, Gerard straddles Frankie, the bulge in his pants becoming more prominent by the second. And then he's kissing Frank, unbuttoning his pants at the same time. He slides them down as best he can, and their owner kicks them the rest of the way off. And then Gerard is flicking his tongue over the head of Frank's cock, and he's moaning while Frankie bucks his hips against Gerard's mouth. His eyes start to water, but he just breathes through his nose and keeps going. And- Jesus, Frank's brain cells are having awesome sex right now, he thinks. Gerard just moves up and down, moaning around Frank's dick. Gerard is totally loving it, too. This kids cock tastes like salt and candy, what the fuck. He wants Frank in him and on him and with him and beside him, holy shit. Meanwhile Frankie is trying his hardest not to blow his load in Gerard's throat, and it's not really working, because he's pretty much almost there. Jesus fuck, Gerard is so good at this, holy shit. Fucking Fuck, Frank thinks.

"Gee- I'm. I'm gonna-" and then he comes in Gee's mouth, all sticky and salty. Gerard just closes his eyes, swallows it, and gets up.

"Holy shit, Frank. Fuck me. Rip my fucking clothes off, dude." He pleads, already unzipping his worn-out hoodie. Frank stares at him, still slightly seeing stars parade around his irises. He really does want to bone Gerard- so goddamn bad- but he's not sure now is the right time.

"Gee- I. Um. Can we...? Um. Can I just? I can't fuck you, not right now. After the show, I promise. I swear. I want you so fucking much, you crazy mother fuck. I wanna jump your bones so bad. But I can't risk Ray or Bob or Mikey coming in here, dude."

Gerard fakes this kind of hurt look and thrusts out his bottom lip all pouty-like. Frankie kisses his cheeks, throws an arm around his shoulder. Gerard just smiles at him, and they spend the whole time waiting for the show like that. At 6:46, there's a knock on the door. Gerard looks over at Frank, puts his finger on his nose, and says

"Nose goes!" Frank just rolls his eyes and gets the door. Mikey steps in the room and says it's show time. Frans are waiting, he says. as they walk out the door, Mikey hands them each a black sharpie.

"Sign everything they give you."

"Even genitals?" Frank asks, only semi-kidding.

"Probably not. Ew. Don't make me think about that, Frank."

"Yeah, the only dick you'd ever sign is Pete Wentz's." Gerard pipes in.

"You dirty cocksucker! How about you fuck off?" Mikey splutters indignantly. Both boys simply grin in reply, an inside joke hovering between them. When they get down to the bus, Ray and Bob are waiting, wide-eyed and ready.  
>"You guys ready? They're fucking animals, dude. Watch yourselves. It's a fuckin' battleground, got it?" Bob explains.<p>

"Uh, yeah." Frank says. Gerard just nods and hopes that's enough.

"Let's get on with it, then." Ray smiles and ruffles his fro. When they step off that bus, holy shit. It's deafening, their screams. Fans are _throwing _shit onto the pavement at their feet. They sign everything they possibly can. (Thankfully, no genitals are encountered) and then they go to the stage. Frank watches, mesmerised as Gerard pours his heart into that microphone, like he's oblivious to any trouble, any rejection or hurt that he's ever had. So he wanders over by Ray and goes,

"Watch Gee, dude. Holy shit. He's so different onstage."

Ray kind of looks at him like, "uh, yeah, dumbass. Old news," and rolls his eyes. Frank frowns and runs over towards Gee, stopping beside him, eyes bright. He glances at the audience, and catches the eyes of a firl in the front row. She's wearing a white v neck T-shirt with the word "FERARD" on the front. She gives him this "oh shit! You're looking at me!" look, so Frank looks at her like "Watch this". He turns to Gerard, and says in his ear,

"Kiss me, you crazy motherfuck. I _dare_ you."

And holy shit, does Gerard have good timing. Frank is like, punched in the face with passion. When Gerard breaks away, he does not take his eyes off Frank for one fucking nanosecond, because sweet baby fucking Jesus, that boy is fine. And Frank just keeps playing his guitar, a crazy grin stapled on his mug. He hears a faint,

"Holy shit! I got it! I got the whole fucking thing on tape! I fucking swear! It's on video! FERARD LIVES!"

So Frank's pretty satisfied, really. He's filled his awesomeness quota for those few hours.


	2. Chapter 2

After the show, Gerard is sitting in the dressing room, taking his makeup off. When Frank comes in, he walks up behind the singer and kisses the top of his head.

"Hi," Gerard says, smiling.

"Hey."

"Great show. Holy shit."

"Fuck yeah. We need to kiss onstage more often." Frank says, smiling like a madman.

"As well as offstage," He says, not even looking at Frankie. The way he says it is so non-chalant, like he's talking about the weather, or what's for dinner. Frankie just smiles and sits in MIkey's chair, next to Gerard's and wipes the sweat off his face.

"Frankie?" Gerard says his name sort of like a guessing game.

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Being Frankie. Taking care of me all the time."

"Oh. That's. That's kind of really sweet. Yeah. You're welcome," Frank says with a smile.

"I really love you, Frankie. And um. I want..." He just kind of leaves the sentence, like it's going to finish itself.

"you want...?" Frank prompts.

"I want to like. Be. Um. Like. Together?" The last word is a question. So Frank leans over and kisses Gerard really softly on the corner of his mouth. He rests his forehead against the older boy's, each breath the two breathed merging between them.

"I'll tell Mikes that we went back to the hotel. Want some Coke?" He offered his can of diet Coke to Frank. As he took it, the makeup-removal resumed. Frankie smiles and sipped the drink passively. Then all the makeup was gone, and it was just Gerard underneath. The real Gerard. Frankie grabbed his hand and kissed his neck. Gerard stood up and they walked out to the tour bus together.

* * *

><p>It was so much more than a few minutes together. The amount of vigorous kissing and touching and groping they squeezed into the 6 minute bus ride back to the hotel was astounding. When the bus finally did reach its destination, Frank had reached a point where he did not want to separate from Gerard more than two inches; for this amount of space was too much. Each time on set of hungry lips found the other's, a mutual smile would occur. Not a simple smile, one of upturned corners of the mouth, but a smile of the heart. The two men walked into the hotel in haste, mainly contemplating the amount of time it would take to be undressed. They'd made out in the elevator (or had been) when it stopped. The two took no notice as a respectable looking man stepped into the elevator car alongside them. Frankie broke away first, breathing into Gerard's ear a simple "wait a sec". Both boys looked over at the man, who had, by then, shoved himself as close to the opposite wall as he could get. He diverted his eyes, suddenly becoming unbearably interested in his shoelaces. Frankie was the first to giggle, the first to let a grin slide onto his lips. Gerard soon followed, allowing himself to chuckle without a real reason other than Frankie's weird laugh.<p>

"Hey, dude. Hey." Frankie beckoned, his eyes glistening.

"May I help you?"

"People are gay. Deal with it." The boy spat, door opening simultaneously. He led Gerard out into the hall by his hand. Frankie fumbled with the key for only a moment, but sighted gratefully when the green light blinked and he opened the door. Immediately after the heavy door rested on the frame once more, the sexual tension sweltered. Passion was at a point, a crux, a peak, and Frankie thought he would have died if Gerard were to leave him then. Maybe he would. Was that possible? Fuck if he cared. Frankie, amidst his thoughts, let himself be pushed onto the bed in the center of the room. (They had moved it in order to jump on it earlier the day before) And he actually liked it. He was excited to get into this with Gerard; it didn't scare him one bit. The older boy was on top of him, his inky black hair falling onto Frank's face, tickling him. Their tongues explored their mouths, venturing into uncharted land. Gerard was urgent: he needed Frank. It seemed to him as if instantaneous wasn't fast enough. Frank loved the way their frames were mixing, bones tangling together in a mess of passion. The singer's hands were on his hips, as if they were anchoring him there- to the bed. The younger boy deepened the kiss, as if when he tried, the two bodies could melt together. They were undressing each other, shedding clothes like simple things, simply objects. Clothes were no more a barrier between them, they were both naked. Frank's mind did a subconscious keyboard mash when he saw Gerard's wang, 'cause holy _shit_ it was big. He kissed Gerard's shoulder gently, hands resting on his waist.

"Frank, Frank, Frankie Frank." The ebony-haired boy whispered against Frankie's skin. Frank only looked up at him with his mouth flipped at the edges.

"Fuck me. Frank. Fuck me." He breathed. Frank, in his mind, was already complying. The smaller frame moved over the longer one, caressing it with soft hands, guitar hands. Calloused to the point of perfection. Everything about this boy, it seemed, was perfect.


End file.
